[Originally there were two students who had motive to kill Professor Whorton. This scene is Fournier and Arnett’s interview with the second, Sean Hawkins, who was cut from the final manuscript. This may contain inconsistencies with the final novel, and/or errors.]

The door of apartment F12 opened almost as soon as Jo rang the bell, revealing a thin man, barely out of his teens. He looked like he was suffering from food poisoning, all pale, sallow skin and blood-shot eyes. “Sean Hawkins?”

“Yes, you’re from the police?”

News of Whorton’s death must have preceded Them. Jo pulled out her identification and gave their introduction. “May we come in?”

He motioned them into the sort of nightmare bachelor enclave Jo had spent most of her twenties avoiding. To the right, the kitchen counters were covered with dirty dishes and take-out containers, and Jo made a bet with herself that the inside of the fridge was empty except for mold. The living room was sparsely furnished, with a couch he’d almost certainly picked up off someone’s curb, and a wooden kitchen chair with a cracked back panel. Two milk crates that functioned as end tables were littered with empty beer bottled, while the slatted wooden coffee table was in desperate need of refinishing. A hall opened off to the left, but all three doors leading off it were closed.

They sat, gingerly, Arnett on the chair while Jo prayed there was nothing alive in the couch.

“I didn’t kill Professor Whorton,” Sean said, eyes flicking back and forth between them.

Jo flicked a finger to let Arnett know she’d lead. “Okay, let’s talk about that. Where were you earlier today, between eleven and one?”

Some color returned to his too-pale face. “Oh, thank God! I had lunch with my friend Paul at Panda Express, and then I started my shift. I work at Starbucks right next door. I just got off my shift about an hour ago, at five-thirty. I can show you the receipt for my lunch, even.” He pulled out his wallet and handed her the receipt.

“Great, that’s a help. We’ll need to confirm with your friend, and your boss.” Jo jotted down the information he provided.

She signaled Arnett again, and he took over. “We hear tell Whorton failed you for plagiarizing.”

He blinked. “I mean, does that matter? If I have an alibi?”

Arnett kept his eyes on Sean’s. “We don’t know yet that you do.”

Sean swallowed hard, and one fingertip traced the woodgrain on the table in front of him. “Look, what I did was wrong. I admitted to it, and I accepted the consequences. I made a bad choice.”

“Seems like an awful big consequence. The way we heard it, you failed out of class, and lost your financial aid,” Arnett said.

Sean’s face reddened. “You heard right. I’m no longer a student and UMass Oakhurst.”

Fournier took back over. “I have to admit, I’d be pretty angry about that if it were me. The punishment doesn’t seem to fit the crime.”

Sean looked down on the floor, eyes sweeping from side to side. “Yeah, well. My dad said the same thing. He wants to sue.”

“And you don’t?” Jo asked.

Sean’s eyes flashed up. “No, I don’t. The whole thing has been humiliating enough. I don’t need to have my whole academic record raked up, and be told what loser I am by lawyers and judges or whatever. My dad doesn’t get it—it won’t go anywhere. I was this far from failing anyway. My dad’s just in denial.”

Jo looked the kid up and down. She heard a lot about the whole millenial-snowflake thing, but it seemed to her that every generation got labeled as entitled and lazy by the one that came before, and this kid was taking responsibility for himself. “What’s the plan now? Will you transfer to another school?”

He laughed. “No other school is gonna take me. This is the plan.” He gestured around at the apartment. “My friend Mike needed a roommate, and convinced his manager at Starbucks to cut me a break. I like it there. I’m good at making coffee, and being around so many people is cool.”

Arnett poked again. “Or maybe you’re just trying to make yourself sound resigned to throw us off the trail.”

Sean’s eyes widened with fear, and flicked to Jo. “Yeah, I was upset, I’m not trying to hide that. But I wasn’t angry like that. Talk to my friends about how I reacted. Check out my alibi. Getting thrown out of college is one thing, going to jail for life is really another.”

Jo nodded. “I get that. Any chance you know anything that might be a help to us? Anyone who might have been angry with him, anything like that?”

He scanned the carpet again. “Plenty of students hated him. But his o-chem class was required for the major, so we all had to take him.”

“His class was too hard?” Jo asked.

He shrugged. “Yeah, but it wasn’t that so much. It’s more that he didn’t care. Like, we asked him a hundred times to put in extra office hours, because the sign-in sheet would fill up as soon as he put it out, and there were a ton of us who couldn’t get in to see him. But he wouldn’t. He’d just tell you to be faster next week, or talk to the TA. And she wasn’t helpful at all, she was like his mini-me. He could do no wrong, and if you got on her bad side, she’d complain to him about you, and then you were done.”

Jo shot Arnett a glance. “Sounds like they were close.”

Sean snorted. “Uh, yeah. She was in charge of his lab, and research is what he really cared about. He was always talking about how cutting edge it was or whatever.”

Fournier checked with Arnett, but he shook his head, so she stood up. “We appreciate your help. We’ll check out you alibi, and if you think of anything else or hear any gossip, please let us know.”

He took the card she handed to him, the tension gone from his face. “I will, thanks.”