Garrett paused. “Oh.”
“If you’re struggling with your true feelings for Fergus, I understand.”
“I’m not struggling. But we’ve been careful about being out.”
“You're wise. Keeping your relationship private may have saved your life.”
“Saved my life?”
“Do you have any reason to believe Fergus's death wasn't an accident?”
Garrett nodded. “Fergus kept the hair dryer on the toilet tank lid but always away from the edge. The dryer wouldn't fall into the tub on its own, nor would he have pulled it.”
“How did you know about the hair dryer in the tub?” Glenn asked.
“It’s all over the news,” Garrett said.
Glenn nodded. “Was he comfortable with your relationship?”
“Of course. We talked about making things permanent someday.”
“Did Fergus have any enemies?”
“Fergus? No way. Like Keenan, he considered everyone his friend. One of the most popular lads in school.”
“Did he run around with anyone outside of school?”
“Not to my knowledge, and I think he would have mentioned it. We talked about everything after we became close.” Garrett sighed, his breathing jerky.
“Did he ever take drugs or anything?”
“Fergus? No way. He’s the kind of guy who washed fruit before he ate it. Quite particular.”
“Did anyone ever follow you two?”
“No. We didn’t go out often, but nobody tailed us. Why?”
“What I said before about saving your life, if someone realized you and Fergus enjoyed a close relationship, you’d be on their radar.”
“Oh.” Garret’s face reflected the realization.
“Can you think of anything else? Anything you found odd or unusual?”
“No. Just find the feckers who did this to Fergus.” Garrett’s anger showed through his emotion, and tears followed.
Glenn put his arm around Garrett and pulled him into a hug. “It’s all right, son. Let it out. You need to grieve for your partner.”
Garrett clung to Glenn and wailed over the loss of his friend.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Wednesday morning at ten o’clock, Ailbe’s office phone rang. The caller ID displayed President. “Dr. MacGowan,” he answered.
“Dr. MacGowan, President Riordan asked for you to come to his office.”
He recognized the voice of Miss Sweeney, the President’s secretary. “I suppose now would be best,” Ailbe said.
“Yes, Dr. MacGowan. I’ll inform Dr. Riordan you are on your way.”
“I shall be in his office as fast as I can.” Ailbe hung up the phone.
Once more, he made the trek across campus to the Administration Building and Dr. Riordan’s office. When Ailbe entered the suite, his office door stood open. Miss Sweeney nodded her head, indicating he should go on in.
“Dr. Riordan,” Ailbe tapped the door frame.
“Ailbe, come in,” Dr. Riordan stood and walked from behind his massive desk. “Please, sit.” He motioned to one of the tufted leather chairs in front of his desk. Ailbe sat, and Dr. Riordan sat opposite him.
“Once again, I have bad news, I’m afraid. Garda found another of your students dead yesterday morning.”
“You’re kidding,” Ailbe feigned surprise. “Which one?”
“Fergus Rafferty,” Dr. Riordan said.
“Rafferty?” Ailbe frowned. “Such an accomplished student. Destined to be a top-notch programmer.”
"Two of your top students have met their demise this semester,” Dr. Riordan continued. “I can’t help but wonder if a plot exists to handicap your program and perhaps put you in danger.” Dr. Riordan spoke in a deep voice meant to comfort.
“You think I might be in danger?” This little wrinkle never occurred to Ailbe. A brilliant aspect drawing suspicion away from him. “I never considered the possibility, Dr. Riordan.” For once, Ailbe told the truth. For all his scheming, he never conjured up this diversion.
