The door opened, slamming into his side. He slipped, attempted to right himself, and then fell backward onto the pile of snow edging the walkway.
Laurel yelped as they landed and sank into the berm, struggling to keep from going too deep. Snow fell onto her legs and slid up the arm of one coat sleeve.
“Dude. Sorry.” A lanky kid with a backpack slung over one shoulder reached for her hand and hauled her off Huck and to her feet. “You okay?”
“Yes.” More snow fell down inside the neck of her coat, and she winced.
Aeneas bounded around, barking in excitement.
“Stop.” Huck stood and yanked off his jacket, shaking it out. Snow covered his backside. The dog instantly sat, panting happily as if they’d been playing. “You good, Laurel?”
“Yes.” She shimmied to force snow out of her coat, shivering. “Let’s go inside.” Smiling at the college student, who was now barely holding back a laugh, she hurried inside the still-open doorway, where heat tantalized her skin. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, but there’s snow down my damn pants,” Huck muttered. “I’m glad I didn’t wear the tactical holster on my thigh today.” He reached to the left of his waist and checked his gun. “All good.” Then he glanced at a series of worn couches and chairs near the windows. Students were scattered around, reading or taking notes. His gaze scanned a nearby directory. “Morris is on the first floor, probably that way.” He pointed down a long hallway with closed office doors.
A small deli was up ahead, and to the left were what looked like study or conference rooms.
Laurel tucked her gloves in her pocket and double-checked that her weapon was safe in her shoulder holster as she glanced at the directory. “Let’s see if he’s in.”
“Sounds good.” Huck stomped more snow off his boots onto the rubber mat.
Laurel led the way down the cement hallway, stopping at office 109, where she knocked on the forest-green metal door.
“Come in,” a male voice said.
She opened the door. “Dr. Lamber?”
“That’s me.” Dr. Lamber looked up from the other side of a metal desk, his hair a wild red mass around his pudgy face. His skin was sallow with dark circles beneath his bloodshot eyes. A bulging bookshelf took up the entire left wall and filing cabinets covered the opposite wall of the narrow space. A window showed the forest behind the professor. “What can I do for you?”
Laurel walked inside toward two red plastic chairs and introduced herself and Huck.
The professor motioned for them to sit. He pushed aside the papers in front of him, making his desk, littered with other papers, coffee cups, and fast-food wrappers, even messier. “I already talked to the Genesis Valley sheriff, but I’m happy to help in any way I can.” His eyes watered and his hands shook.
Laurel sat, trying not to wince as more snow slid down her freezing spine. “We’re very sorry for your loss, Dr. Lamber.”
“Thanks, and please call me Morris. My mother was Dr. Lamber.” Morris sat back even farther and his chair protested with a squeak. “Do you have any leads yet?”
“Maybe,” Laurel said as Aeneas flopped on her boots again. Why did the animal like to lie on her feet all the time? “Morris, do you have any inkling of who could’ve wanted your wife dead?”
Morris shook his head. “None whatsoever. Well, except maybe the guy she was cheating on me with. I’d love to know that bastard’s name.” Though the words were angry, no emotion colored his face. Was he in shock? “Have you figured out who it is?”
Huck settled his bulk on the chair. “How do you know she was having an affair?”
Now Morris did pale. “I read a couple of her texts one night. I knew something was going on, but her phone was always locked, so one night I just grabbed it out of her hand.”
“What did you read?” Laurel asked.
Morris gulped. “Just plans to meet some asshole she called ‘Big Boy.’ That was his name. I mean, that’s what she named him in her phone contacts. Can you believe that?” He swallowed rapidly as if trying not to vomit. “The two texts I read mentioned what a great time they’d had the weekend before, when she was supposed to have been at a botany conference. Then she kicked me in the nuts and grabbed her phone back.” He reached for a soda in a plastic cup. “That was the end, I guess.”
“So you have no idea who this man could be?” Laurel asked.
“No.”
Huck wiped off his neck. “What about the mayor? Is there a chance your wife was sleeping with her sister’s husband?”
Morris blanched. “No. If that’s the rumor, I think it’s wrong. Sharon didn’t really care for Saul Bearing, to be honest. She thought he was a blowhard.”
That might’ve been a good cover. Laurel needed those phone records sooner rather than later. “Where were you the weekend she was killed?” She gave him the appropriate time frame.
