to learn.”
He made an tsking sound. “You’re beginning to sound like me.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
He looked at her directly as he opened the café’s door for her. “I’ve found if you have passion for what you teach, it’s hard not to convey that to your students. Before you know it, they’re feeling the same way.”
Entering the Half Joe, Cassie scanned the college hangout for an empty chair or couch. She spied her brother sitting off in the corner with two tall men, probably a few years younger than Scott.
“Ah, I see your brother is here. Now, that brings back some memories. We used to come here after class and have some lively conversations.”
A group near her brother rose from a worn brown leather couch. Cassie pointed toward it. “Let’s grab it before someone else does.”
As she wound her way through the maze of chairs and couches, she heard several people call out to Jameson. Her brother glanced up and saw them. Frowning, he returned his attention to the two young men he was talking to. He jotted something on a notepad on the table in front of him.
Strange, Cassie thought, taking in the tension in Scott’s posture, the intensity in his expression. A minute ago she had been tempted to interrupt their conversation, but something warned her that her little brother wouldn’t be too happy with her, as though he was on assignment and nothing should interfere with his interview.
When she sat on the couch, Jameson settled next to her and waved his hand for the waitress. “What would you like?”
“A cup of green tea.”
When the college-age woman stopped on the other side of the table in front of the couch, Jameson gave her their orders.
The waitress’s expression brightened. “Anything else, Dr. King? We have freshly baked white-chocolate-and-macadamia nut cookies. I know how much you like those.”
He patted his flat stomach. “I’m afraid too much. Not tonight.”
“It’s obvious you still frequent this place,” Cassie said when the young woman left.
“I wrote part of my book here.”
“You did? The noise wasn’t distracting?”
“I’m very good at tuning others out when I need to. But I found inspiration watching the different people, especially when I got stuck.”
“When is your book coming out?” Cassie pushed her hair behind her ears.
“Not for another year.”
“Why a murder mystery?”
“When I worked as a reporter, I covered several murder cases from beginning to end, so I drew on my experience.”
“Write about what you know?”
His smile transformed his face, erasing the hint of sadness she often saw lurking in the depths of his eyes. “I can’t say I’ve actually been involved in a murder case. Just as an observer.”
“And now we have our very own murder case at the college.” A tremor snaked down Cassie’s spine when she thought about the unknown woman found in August who was still unidentified.
The waitress placed their orders on the coffee table in front of them, giving Jameson a big grin and a shy once-over before leaving. Cassie wondered if the young woman had taken any of Jameson’s classes. He seemed oblivious to his effect on the female population, but she’d seen the look on the waitress’s face and knew what it meant. When she had been in his class years ago she’d probably had the same silly grin on her face.
He took his mug and sipped his drink. “Even though it’s been nearly two months, everyone is still talking about the murdered woman.”
“People love a good mystery.”
“That’s what I’m hoping with my novel.”
“Thinking of giving up teaching when you become a success?”
“First, most writers don’t make a decent living with their writing, and second, the business is fickle.” He drank a swallow of his coffee. “Now, it’s my turn. Why are you taking my class?”
She’d always been straightforward, and this time she couldn’t be any less than that. “When I saw you at the fund-raiser, I remembered how much I enjoyed your classes, so I signed up when this short course became available. As a teacher I can always use persuasive techniques in dealing with students.”
She curled her hands around her mug of tea, her gaze drifting toward her brother, engrossed in a conversation with the two young men. The impression he was working on a story was still strong. So what did these two students have to do with it?
“When we came in, you seemed surprised to see Scott here.”
Jameson’s observation drew her attention back to the man beside her on the couch. “Yes. He stopped by the house earlier, but he didn’t say anything about coming here.”
“In the past month I’ve seen him here several times.”
“You have?”
“Yeah. You didn’t know he was visiting Magnolia Falls?”
“No.” Again she glanced toward Scott. What was he up to? “Is he meeting with the same people?”
“No, different ones. But I’ve found most of them are connected with the basketball team. I thought at first he might be helping out this season. Practice has started, and although he couldn’t go pro, he can still play.”
“But he doesn’t. When the accident happened, he blamed himself for the team not going any further in the NCAA tournament that year.”
“If I remember correctly, we had a good chance of winning the tournament.”
Cassie felt uncomfortable being reminded of that awful time four years ago when her brother’s life came crashing down around him.
“Granted, Scott was the star player, but as I told him then, he was only one member of the team. Winning is a team effort and so is losing.”
“I said basically the same thing to him, but it didn’t make any difference. He walked away from the game. He rarely even watches it. So why is he talking to members of the team?”
Jameson arched an eyebrow, a gleam glinting in his eyes. “A good question. A story?”
“Possibly. Is there a player who has a chance to go to the NBA?”
“I gather you don’t follow basketball, either.”
“No, just gymnastics. I only followed it when Scott played.”
Jameson tilted his head to the side and thought for a moment. “Maybe. There’s one who has a shot. Marcus Reed. He’s a junior.”
“Reed?
