At Henley College, Dr. Sophie Knowles enjoys teaching and
has a knack for
making mathematics coming alive for her students. Although
attending
commencement isn't her favourite use of time, she does enjoy
sending her
students onto the next phase of their lives, be it graduate
school or their
dream job. Seeing the joy on their faces as they receive
their diplomas
balances out the tedium of sitting through the commencement
speeches, and
Sophie is particularly happy to see these commencement
ceremonies end
since the originally scheduled guest speaker had to cancel
at the last minute
and the faculty had a contentious vote about who should fill in.
Sophie didn't vote for the mayor to speak (she wanted
someone less political
and more academic) and she's surprised when he catches her
eye as he leaves
the stage and appears to say "see you soon" to her. Not
knowing of an
impending meeting with the mayor, she's puzzled, but brushes
it off until
later that night when the mayor lumbers toward her and her
boyfriend, Bruce.
He's clearly injured, and Bruce, a medevac helicopter pilot
tries to assist him.
However, the mayor dies later that night, and his last words
are a plea to
Sophie.
Sophie and Bruce's friend Virgil happens to be on the Henley
police force, and
he keeps them informed as to how the investigation into the
mayor's murder
is going. But, of course, there seem to be plenty of
suspects to go around.
Was the murder politically motivated, as his campaign was in
full swing? Or
did it have to do with the controversial charter school
system? It's also
discovered that the mayor could have been engaging in at
least one
extra-martial affair, and the suspect pool widens
considerably when this
information comes to light.
This cosy was enjoyable from the first page to the last
sentence. Ada Madison
has a way of captivating readers and drawing them in by
setting scenes and
making them feel like more than just bystanders in her book.
Sophie is a
unique character in that she's an intellectual but is
surrounded by students,
so she makes a concerted effort to be up-to-date on what her
students are
up to and what keeps them interested. She also juggles her
time and
unconventional schedule with her boyfriend's equally
unconventional
schedule, but makes it all seem easy, as well as working in
interesting and
historical math facts and puzzles.
The sub-plot in this book, THE FUNCTION OF MURDER, was
nearly as
interesting as the mayor's murder. A student was upset
about her grade and
started a social media campaign against Sophie in an effort
to get her grade
changed. This battle really heats up, culminating with an
act of violence that
requires police intervention, which shows Sophie's
vulnerability. Another
subplot that highlighted Sophie's humanity was how concerned
she was for
one of her star students (Kira) who volunteered for the
mayor's campaign and
may have been the subject of the mayor's affections.
Overall, THE FUNCTION OF MURDERS is
so riveting and compelling that I absolutely cannot wait for
the next book in
this series!
Dr. Sophie Knowles is a math professor with a knack for
creating complex puzzles that delight her students. But
now, at the close of the academic year, she must solve a
crime that doesn\'t quite add up...
At the math department\'s graduation party, Sophie hears
heated arguments coming from the graduates about Mayor
Graves, the commencement speaker. Not the mayor\'s biggest
fan, Sophie is happy to escape the drama with an
after–hours campus stroll accompanied by her
helicopter–piloting boyfriend, Bruce Granville.
However, their date is interrupted by the mayor
himself—with a knife in his back.
As it turns out, the knife is actually a Henley College
letter opener—something that is gifted to every
member of the graduating class. Sophie is led to a
complicated puzzle of scandal and corruption, and it seems
that Mayor Graves is at the apex of it all. When Sophie
finds out that the mayor was seeking her help on the day he
was murdered, she must use her top–notch logic to
crack the puzzle and catch the killer running free on
campus...
Excerpt
EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER 1
What\'s not to like about graduation ceremonies?
The speeches? Can\'t get enough of them. The flowers,
balloons, parties, screaming coeds? Love them all. Every
year I look forward to a long line of students filing by,
one by one, switching the tassels on their mortarboards. I
get a shiver of delight as I join the procession, my heavy
silk and velvet robes weighing me down. What a pleasure it
is to walk around the pathways of the campus and onto the
great lawn, Purcell\'s Trumpet Voluntary ringing out through
the stifling hot and humid air. I never want it to end.
Not.
Today, as the faculty sat outside on a makeshift stage,
our uncomfortable folding chairs seemed to sway with every
warm breeze.
Fran, my colleague in the Henley College Mathematics
Department, nudged me.
\"Professor Knowles, are you bored silly?\" she whispered.
\"Totally, Professor Emerson,\" I said. \"Are you stuck to
your chair?\"
\"Like white on the blackboards,\" answered Fran, who was
old enough to remember chalk. \"Can you believe this guy?
Could he be less inspiring?\" Fran gave a surreptitious nod
in the direction of the podium where Mayor Edward P. Graves
was holding forth as our keynote speaker. The P. was
important to distinguish him from his father, Edward D., and
his grandfather, Edward K., who had been our mayors before him.
Mayor Graves had not been the unanimous choice for
commencement speaker. We\'d had a last–minute
cancellation and the dean had called an emergency meeting
for a replacement. Many of us would have preferred a person
of academic standing, like the originally scheduled speaker,
who was a retired dean of a Boston medical school. Not that
I\'d been asked, but I\'d have recommended one of any number
of noted mathematicians in the greater Boston area. A
sparkling equation would have made a nice addition to the
commencement address.
****
By ten fifteen, according to the old chimes from Franklin
Hall, we decided it was time to leave. We stood and brushed
off particles of dust and leaves deposited by the breeze,
ready for the walk to Bruce\'s car, marveling at how still
and lovely the campus was. The graduation hubbub and the
squealing from one of the last all–female graduating
classes were over. Who knew what kind of celebratory sounds
the male grads would make in a couple of years? Perhaps
they\'d simply say, \"Good job, Bro,\" and knock knuckles.
Seemingly out of nowhere, we heard clumping
noises—dragging sounds on the lawn and then shuffled
footsteps on the pathway, coming from the direction of the
dorms and the east end of the Administration Building.
\"Help!\" a low, pained voice cried. \"Help me!\"
We turned and saw a man in a light business suit
staggering toward us, as if he would topple over on the next
step. He looked a lot like the mayor, with auburn highlights
showing up under the campus security lamps.
On closer inspection—it was the mayor.
I could hardly believe it. He teetered and swayed till he
got to the edge of the fountain, where we\'d been sitting,
then fell in, head first. His commencement speech wasn\'t
that bad, I thought, that he had to get himself wasted. How
embarrassing. What was he thinking? He should be grateful
that it was Bruce and I who were here and not someone from
his opponent\'s campaign or parents with a decidedly negative
opinion of him to begin with.
Bruce didn\'t stop to judge or make a guess about what had
happened or why. He snapped to it, on full alert, as if he
were back in the Air Force in Saudi Arabia, or at the MAstar
helipad rushing to get to an accident scene. He made it to
the fountain in three long steps and lifted the mayor out by
the shoulders. He laid him face down on the grass.
I was confused—why didn\'t he put him on his back?
That\'s what television emergency crews did when they gave
CPR. Face up.
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