Jane drew in a breath, inhaling the glorious scents, and wondered if she would ever have a garden of her own. A garden with plants that she would manage not to kill, like almost every houseplant that was unfortunate enough to come into her possession. Here, rhododendrons and poppies were in full bloom and peony bushes lined the stone path where an enormous orange cat lounged in the sun. Clematis and climbing roses had scrambled up the stump of a dead tree and over the fence, as if trying to escape into the wild. Nothing in this garden was orderly, yet all of it was perfect.
The sound of the patio door sliding open made Anthony turn toward the house. “Ah, thank you, dear,” he said as his wife, Elif, walked into the garden, carrying a pitcher filled with a brilliant red liquid, rattling with ice cubes. She placed it on the patio table and gave her husband an inquiring look.
“They’re here to ask about that murder I told you about. The lady professor at Colby College.”
“But that happened years ago.” She looked at Jane. “My husband was just a student.”
“The case was never solved,” said Jane. “We’re just following up on it.”
“Why ask Anthony about it? You don’t think—”
“It’s nothing to worry about,” Anthony said, patting his wife’s hand. “But I might be able to help them. I hope I can anyway.” He reached for the pitcher and filled the glasses. “Please, Detectives, sit down. This is hibiscus tea, all the way from Turkey. Refreshing and full of vitamins.”
On this hot and humid afternoon, chilled tea was a welcome beverage and Jane drank down half of hers in just a few gulps. When she set down the glass, she saw that Elif was watching her, clearly disturbed by this visit from the police. But Anthony seemed not at all concerned as he sipped his tea, ice cubes clinking.
“Even after all these years,” he said, “I remember it very well because it was such a shock at the time. Terrible things stick with you, like scar tissue on your brain that never goes away. I even remember exactly where I was when I heard the news. In the cafeteria on campus, sitting with a classmate I was interested in at the time.” He looked at his wife and gave an apologetic shrug. “It took only two dates for me to realize I wasn’t interested in her after all. But the news about the murder—it’s a very vivid memory.” He looked down at his glass. “Because Professor Creighton was so special to me.”
“What do you mean by special?” asked Frost.
“I only came to appreciate it in later years, how much she went out of her way to help me, a foreign student. I was just a skinny boy from Istanbul, not sure if I would fit in there. And those terrible winters! We have snow in Istanbul too, but I was not prepared for how cold it is in Maine. I was in Professor Creighton’s freshman English class one morning, shivering, my lips blue. And she handed me her wool scarf, just like that.” He smiled, his gaze drifting up to a vine of wisteria blossoms overhead. “One remembers gestures like that. Simple acts of kindness. She became my faculty adviser. Invited me to Christmas dinners when I couldn’t afford to fly home for the holidays. Encouraged me to apply to graduate school. My own mother was so far away, and Professor Creighton was almost like a substitute mother for me. That’s why her murder was…” He shook his head. “It was hard, especially for me.”
“When was the last time you saw her alive?” asked Jane.
“It was at that cocktail party, at her house. I was in my senior year then, and she’d invited maybe two dozen other seniors she’d been advising. It was sometime just before Halloween, I think. I remember it got dark very early and the leaves had already changed color. It seemed so festive, all of us sipping wine, chatting about what we planned to do after graduation. Grad school, jobs. Travel. We all assumed we had a future, but you never know, do you? Which one of us might be dead in a few days.”
“That evening, how did Professor Creighton seem to you?” asked Jane. “Did she look worried? Upset?”
Anthony considered the question. “No. I don’t believe so.”
“Were you aware of the child custody battle she was having with her ex-husband?”
“I know she’d been offered a faculty position on the West Coast, and he didn’t want her to take their daughter. Which, to be honest, I completely understand. I’d fight tooth and nail if someone tried to take our daughters away.” He reached out for his wife’s hand. “Something I’ve never had to face, thank god.”