Final Exam: A Legal Thriller Read Free Page A

  Evanston’s not that far.   If I leave pretty soon, I should be able to get back later this afternoon to take a look around.   Besides, I’d kind of like to see what her reaction is when she finds out.   You never know, she might be involved.”  
    It only took a few minutes for Detectives Nelson and Cole to find out what they needed to know in order to inform Greenfield’s next of kin of his untimely death.   The Professor and his wife, Sylvia, divorced three years ago, although Professor Greenfield really didn’t want the divorce and tried to do everything he could to prevent his wife from going through with it.   They had two daughters, both in their late teens - one a junior in high school and the other a freshman at Northwestern University.   Sylvia Greenfield got custody of the girls, the house, the dog and most everything else from what Nelson and Cole could tell from their few minutes with the Dean and Samuel Dorlund , another professor at the law school who burst into the Dean’s office five minutes after the detectives got there.  
    It was a quarter past one when Nelson merged onto northbound Lake Shore Drive and headed toward Evanston.   Nelson would inform Sylvia Greenfield of her ex-husband’s demise, with Cole handling things back at the crime scene.   Nelson wanted to get back before traffic got too heavy, so he quickly punched the blue Taurus up to fifty-five and turned on talk radio.

3
      Following directions given to him by Professor Dorlund , Nelson found Sylvia Greenfield’s home on a nice, quiet tree-lined street about five or six blocks from the Northwestern University campus.   It was a red brick Georgian built sometime in the first half of the 20th Century, with a large detached garage and a big yard.   The house appeared to be well-maintained, and Nelson imagined from first glance that Daniel Greenfield would have had a hard time leaving it.   From what Professor Dorlund told him earlier, Greenfield moved from this house to a small apartment near Wrigley Field, primarily chosen for its obvious convenience in attending Cub games during summer afternoons.  
    Nelson parked the Taurus across the street and made his way up the front walk.   Despite at least a foot of snow on the ground, the walkway was clear and dry.   Nelson rang the bell and turned to survey the surrounding neighborhood.   Nice older homes, mature trees and big yards complete with Christmas decorations.   Getting no response, he turned and rang the bell a second time.   Still nothing.   Eyeing the heavy brass knocker in the shape of a lion’s head on the large wooden inside door, Nelson pulled open the screen door and banged it sharply four times.   Positioned on either side of the front door were sidelights, long rectangular windows covered in sheer curtains.   Nelson peered through the one on the right and could vaguely see all the way through to the back of the house.   There was no sign of life or activity anywhere.   Although Dorlund said that Sylvia Greenfield didn’t work, it was possible that she was out running some errand.   Nelson turned to take the walk over to the driveway where he would wander toward the back of the house and check if there were any cars parked in the garage.  
    Just as he reached the driveway, a tan Volvo station wagon pulled in, passed in front of him and drove slowly down and parked in front of the garage.   Nelson followed down behind it.   When he was about halfway down the drive, a woman emerged from the car and threw a gym bag over her shoulder as she slammed the door.   Seeing Nelson coming in her direction, she called out in a non-threatening yet insistent voice, “Can I help you with something, sir?”  
    Not wanting to scare her or give her the wrong idea, Nelson stopped and reached into his pocket for his credentials.   Holding them out he said, “Yes, Ma’am.   My name is detective Scott Nelson with the Chicago Police Department.   I need a few