There were only a few students in Frost’s outer office. They were all quietly working, and none of them accosted us as we crossed over to Frost’s private room.

Once we were inside, Professor Frost invited us to sit, while he took the chair behind his desk. Once we were settled, Frost interlaced his fingers and rested his hands on his desk.

“How can I help you, Agent Vasil?”

“I’m hoping you can clear up a few things for me, since you were so close to Wayde.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Detective Moran and I have been trying to put together a timeline of his last week, but Wayde didn’t seem to use his online calendar much.”

“No. He liked to keep his appointments in his head. It worked most of the time, but then he’d miss a dentist appointment and have to set three reminders and stick a post-it note on his computer.”

“He didn’t have a paper calendar?”

“Not that I know of.”

“How often did Wayde stay late at his office?”

“Most weekdays. He didn’t have a family to go home to, so he was never in a hurry to leave, and he was the kind of professor who liked to help his students. When he went to his club on Tuesdays, he usually left from here.”

“Did he have any other hobbies or things he made time for?”

“Well, he liked to cook, and he was a bit of a foodie, but that’s all I can think of. He was devoted to his work.”

“Was there anyone he was particularly close to?”

Frost was quiet for a second. When he spoke again, there was a softness to his voice that hadn’t been there before. “I think that’s mostly me. Trev was friendly to everyone, but that only meant he had a lot of acquaintances who loved him.”

“Were there any women who liked to hang around him?”

“Certainly, but they were mostly female students.”

“Did Wayde have a girlfriend?”

“A girlfriend?” A crooked smile appeared on Frost’s face. “No.”

Something about that smile bugged me. It wasn’t as if Darius had said something funny.

“Was he gay?” I asked.

“Oh, no,” Frost said. “He was straight—whenever he dated, it was always women—but he…” Frost took a breath. “He didn’t make time for it. We used to joke that the only way he’d ever get married was if a woman stormed into his office and proposed to him. Even then, she’d better have the license and maybe a justice of the peace with her.”

“So he wasn’t seeing anyone?” Darius asked.

“Not that I know of, and I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t tell me.”

“You’re not married, are you, Professor Frost?”

“I’m afraid not. I give too much of myself to my work.”

“You wouldn’t be jealous?”

“I don’t know about jealous. It would depend on how pretty she was. But Trev’s always told me when he was dating someone so we could raise a glass together.”

“I see. Do you know if there was anyone he was interested in?”

“Last time he mentioned anyone was about two months ago. He said there was a woman that he was tempted to ask out, but he never mentioned her again.”

“And you don’t know who she was?”

“No. Agent Vasil, may I ask why all these questions about a girlfriend?”

Darius raised his hand in a shrug. “It was something someone said. Probably not important.”

“Not unless she reads Egyptian,” I muttered.

Frost’s polite smile widened into a real one. “Oh, if she could read ancient Egyptian, I would have heard of her. That’s a rare talent.”

“But Kiel can do it?” Darius asked.

“Yes.”

“Professor, Louis Summer said that Wayde would sometimes try to get under Kiel’s skin. Would you say that’s accurate?”

Frost squirmed. “Well, I…I don’t…”

His mistake was glancing up at Darius in the middle of his blustering. If he’d kept his eyes down on his desk, he might have been able to spin out his words into a fluff of nothing, but the vampire was gazing at him, unblinking, with his thousand pound stare. It pinned the professor to his seat and seared all the bluster out of him.

“Please understand,” Frost said, “it wasn’t that Trevon disliked Kiel. Much. Or maybe he did, but Trev was generally a polite person. He would never have been overtly rude—”

“Most people aren’t overtly rude to their bosses, Professor Frost.”

“No. I suppose not.” Frost sighed. “Kiel never bothered to hide the fact he didn’t like Trev. After a few years, I think that would bother anyone. Trev teased Kiel to torment him. It was a mild form of stress relief. Fortunately, they didn’t have to deal with each other much.

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“Was there anyone else that disliked Wayde?”

Frost thought about it. “Well, I suppose there’s Miranda’s mother, but she’s the only one that comes to mind.”

“You know about that situation?”

“Oh, yes. I know. Wayde told me about it when it all happened.”

“When was this?”

“Two years ago, when Miranda came to school here. There was a big fight, a lot of drama. Trev felt terrible about it. He decided that if Miranda’s mother was going to write her off, then he would take her in.”

“Was that when he created the will favoring her?”

“I warned him that was too much. Anyone would object if someone who was practically a stranger did something like that, and Miranda did object at first, but I think she was too shy to talk him out of it.”

All the air seemed to waft out of me. My empty lungs couldn’t decide if I was supposed to be breathing in or exhaling.

Darius let the words settle, then said, in a far more calm voice than I could have managed, “He told Miranda about this?”

Frost nodded.

The vampire was motionless for another second, then he leaned back in his chair.

“Was Wayde fond of Miranda?”

“He was excited to meet her, and he really wanted to get to know her. Thank goodness, she also happened to be about the sweetest girl in the world. That worked out for both of them. Once she told him she was going to change her major, they even talked about her moving in to save some money.”

“Why would her major matter?”

“When she was an anthropology major, it was a lot more important to keep their relationship professional, to avoid accusations of favoritism.”

“Was Wayde upset when Miranda changed her major to psychology?”

“At first he was disappointed, but he came around. Last time we were together, he joked with her about how the first thing she’d learn was that she was crazy to leave anthropology. ‘Dead people are much easier to study. They don’t contradict you.’”

The vampire faked a smile to show his appreciation for the joke. “Professor,” he said, “you weren’t at the Dead End Club on the night Wayde was killed, were you?”

“I’m not a member.”

“Did Wayde not invite you?”

“He did, once. Way back when he formed the club.”

“You refused him?”

“I was busy at the time, then they were already established.” Frost shrugged. “I didn’t mind. I wasn’t really one of them anyway. I still have some hope for my career.”

“Do you know anything about an appointment he had that night—aside from the club?”

Frost froze, then breathed out, “An appointment? Is that why he was home?”

“You seem surprised,” the vampire observed.

“I am surprised. I was surprised. When the police told me when he died, I knew he was supposed to be at his club. I couldn’t understand it.”

“Then you don’t know who he was meeting?”

“It wasn’t Miranda, was it?”

“Miss St. John said she was in the library, studying.”

“Then, I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”

“That’s fine. You said you knew about the fake Egyptian scroll?”

Frost hesitated, then said, “Yes.”

“I need you to tell me everything you know about it.”

The professor shrugged, but it was a squirmy shrug that lifted one shoulder before the other. “What can I say? I don’t know much. Trev appeared with it one day. He handed it to me—is it real or is it fake? I told him it was fake. Easy. The writing system didn’t match the condition of the papyrus, and if it had been real, he wouldn’t have let me touch it.”

Frost stopped talking and shrugged again.

“That’s it?” Darius asked.

“Yes, I think so.”

“You didn’t see it again?”

“I’m pretty sure I saw it when I went over to his house.”

“How many people knew about the scroll?”

“I couldn’t tell you. Lots of people, probably. He didn’t keep it a secret.”

“Did Kiel know about it?”

“No.”

“Boom!” I said. “Mic drop.”

Both men stopped what they were doing to stare at me.

“It’s just, you seemed uncomfortable talking about the scroll, Professor,” I explained, “but there was no hesitation there, no filler words—just ‘no.’ Kiel doesn’t know about it. It seemed out of place.”

“Did it?” Frost said.

“She has a point,” Darius said. “How can you be so certain that Wayde didn’t take the scroll to Kiel?”

“You already know that their relationship wasn’t the best.”

“Someone told me that reading ancient Egyptian is a rare talent,” I said.

The vampire decided to offer the poor man some mercy. “Professor, the Dead Enders have already told us about Wayde helping students with problem artifacts.”

Frost’s face fell. He murmured, “I see.”

“Was the scroll a problem artifact?”

The professor looked up. “Yes. A student gave it to him.”

“Gave it to him? As in, he didn’t buy it?”

“No. He said they wanted to get rid of it.”

“Did he say why?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Did the student steal it from someone?” I asked.

“It’s possible, but Trev checked on things like that. If it was stolen, no matter who stole it, he always encouraged the student to give it back, and if he knew it was stolen, he never would have kept it.”

“Do you know which student gave it to him?” Darius asked.

“I don’t think anyone would know. Trev made it a point to never reveal who brought him the artifacts. The whole reason he was doing it was to protect them. And, before you ask me again, Agent Vasil, that’s why I’m so certain that Kiel doesn’t know about the scroll. Trev never would have taken it to him.”

“Did Wayde seem interested in the scroll?”

“Not more than normal.”

“Did anyone else show an interest in the scroll?”

“Not really.”

“To the best of your knowledge, did Wayde ever try to have the scroll translated?”

“Honestly, Agent, all he did was drop it on his bookshelf and bring it out every now and then to have people guess whether it was real or not! He didn’t think it was important.”

The vampire watched him.

“Was it important?” the professor asked.

“It was important enough someone decided to steal it.”

“Someone stole it? Are…are you sure? Are you sure it isn’t lost in the mess?”

“My colleague”—he motioned to me—“was there when it happened. We saw it before the theft. She saw it in the thief’s hand. We couldn’t find it afterward. Is that compelling enough for you, Professor?”

“But that makes no sense!”

Darius raised an eyebrow.

Frost added, “Why would someone steal a fake scroll?”

“That was something I hoped you could tell me.”

The professor blew out his breath and raised both hands in a shrug.

“Is there anyone who might think it was valuable?” Darius asked.

Frost fell silent.

“Professor?”

Frost said, “Anyone who knew it was in Trev’s study should have known that it was worthless.”

“Is there a reason someone wouldn’t want us to find the scroll?”

“I don’t…” The professor stopped.

“Could they have been trying to protect Wayde?” I asked. “If he wasn’t supposed to have it—”

The professor shook his head while staring at a spot on the wall. “Wayde shouldn’t have gotten into any real trouble over having it. He didn’t even buy it this time.” Frost lowered his head to look at us. “But if you’re investigating counterfeit artifacts, there’s a chance that the student who gave it to him might not want you to find it.”

“That would only be true if the scroll could be traced back to them,” Vasil said.

Frost looked troubled, but he nodded.

Darius ran his thumb over his jaw, then sat up in his chair. “Thank you for taking time out to talk to us, Professor Frost.”

“Of course.” Frost glanced at his phone. “I’m late again. Sorry to rush you out, but I have to go.”

He stood up and grabbed a pile of papers and the messenger bag hanging from his chair. We left his office together. He wished us a good afternoon and wandered down the hall.

Darius turned the other way. He walked so fast, I had to jog to catch up to him.

“Are we in a hurry?” I asked.

“We are.”

“Why?”

“I have a hunch about something.”

“What kind of hunch?”

“One without any supporting evidence. Unfortunately.”

We went back to Wayde’s office. The count opened the door and stepped inside. “Good morning again, Mr. Summer. May I have a moment of your time?”