A Function of Murder Read Free

surprised he agreed to come,” I said, glancing back at
     Superintendent of Schools Patrick Collins, who had his arms folded across his chest.
     I suspected he’d sat that way throughout the mayor’s speech. It was a great way for
     academics at all levels to make a point without looking boorish themselves. Simply
     cross your arms and have people speculate as to what it is that you, in your great
     wisdom, disagree with.
    “I wonder how that’s all going to end,” Fran said.
    “Not well,” I suggested, recalling a month’s worth of newspaper headlines about the
     issues separating the superintendent of schools and the mayor. Poor Mayor Graves.
     I didn’t understand why anyone would want the job of dealing with all the city’s challenges,
     from its educational institutions to its waste disposal.
    The current classroom dispute was over the performance and the funding of the charter
     schools in town. Bitter words were exchanged and documented in living detail. I felt
     sorry for the bald, aging superintendent who had to compete aesthetics-wise with our
     young, buff mayor and his full head of auburn hair.
    My own experience as a volunteer at the Zeeman charter school, also known as Zeeman
     Academy, was mixed. I avoided the principal and the other administrators, who often
     seemed to be caught up in unnecessary paperwork and bureaucratic details, but I loved
     the students—full disclosure: I love all students—and kept at it as part of my lifelong
     mission for math literacy.
    I’d chosen Zeeman because of its business orientation and well-known selection of
     internships for its older elementary school students. To me, mathematics was the ultimate
     field for everyone, offering both beautiful equations and the most practical, business-friendly
     methods, and I wanted to get that message across early.
    We’d reached the exciting time in the Henley College commencement program when roughly
     five hundred students would be entered into the ranks of the college educated.
    The practice of having every student’s name called out ended a couple of years ago,
     when the exercises began to take longer than a two-credit class. Now students stood
     in blocks and degrees were awarded according to their major departments. Only the
     honors students paraded across the stage as their names were announced. Individual
     parchments for the gen pop of graduates were handed out later at separate, smaller
     department gatherings. My mouth watered as I thought of the catered appetizers that
     would be served to math and science graduates in my building shortly. Or longly.
    During the transition at the podium, I heard a lot of shuffling behind me as some
     of those in the back rows felt they could follow the mayor’s example and slip out
     unnoticed. Lucky me, sitting toward the front. Trapped. I mopped my brow in as ladylike
     a manner as possible and without knocking my tam off my head.
    “I have an idea,” Fran whispered through a barely open mouth.
    “Anything. Show me what you’ve got,” I said, as President Olivia Aldridge called for
     American Studies majors to stand. Only twenty-four departments to go, all the way
     past English and Political Science to Theatre Arts, and ending with Women’s Studies.
    I felt a poke from Fran and then something sliding across my lap. I pulled my robe
     over the new item, leaving only a small viewing space. I snuck a look and saw Fran’s
     new smartphone with a wordplay game under way.
    “I’m in,” I whispered.
    She’d started by forming the word
windy
. I checked the set of letters available to me and moved a word into place around
     her
i
:
tickle
.
    Our phones were smart enough to know the value of each letter and kept score for us.
     It was twelve to twelve, and we were off.
    Fran and I looked up now and then to clap for a student we’d taught, and finally to
     watch mortarboards soar through the air.
    “Another class goes off into the world,” she said.
    I nodded. “I